


Snared

by WickedMuses



Series: A New World [4]
Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Can't stress enough this is about rape you've been warned, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Torture, Violence, rapefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-12-16 19:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21041450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedMuses/pseuds/WickedMuses
Summary: The Huntress worries about monsters, when she should worry about people.*Takes place after OEP, OEP and WW?





	1. Prey

Despite being the 'Sapphire Star' of the Commission in the New World, it wasn't often that the Huntress was approached by other hunters out of the blue, especially ones she didn't recognize.

She imagined the trio must've come in on the Argosy or some other trading ship, which were much more common now that the sea and skies had cleared after the defeat of Xeno'Jiiva, but she supposed their origin wasn't all that important in the grand scheme of things.

They'd requested her assistance on a hunt and she didn't really need any more details than that, though she was surprised they needed any help at all as they seemed pretty capable.

By the looks of it, two of them were brothers and very similar in appearance. With messy blond hair and identical athletic builds, the only obvious physical difference between the two were their eyes; one sporting narrow eyes with bright blue iris' and the other, sharp brown with an overall angry look about him.

The third hunter was very large, with only the man the Huntress knew to be larger in stature being the Admiral. Thick brown hair trailed down his back, where he carried a hammer that probably weighed more than herself. He spoke with a gruff voice and didn't have the look of someone who smiled much, if at all.

According to their request, two black Diablos were wreaking havoc in the Wildspire Wastes and they'd been tasked with neutralizing the pair, but now that they were at location, the Huntress was having a difficult time finding traces of the supposed devastation being caused.

She wiped the sweat from her brow and scanned her surroundings.

Rocks, cactus, vespoids, and some old Barroth tracks... her scoutflies weren't picking up anything either.

Nothing indicated that a Diablos had been in the area recently and she couldn't help the feeling that something was off.

Realizing she'd been walking farther ahead than the rest of the party for awhile now, she stopped and was about to turn around when she felt the impact of something hitting her square between her shoulder blades.

A cloud of blue dust swirled around her and in her surprise she inadvertently gasped in the drug. Immediately, a strong lethargy began to take hold of her, turning her limbs to lead in seconds.

She stumbled forward a few steps, trying to overcome the fog that was engulfing her mind. She heard voices behind her, but couldn't process what they were saying as she crumbled to the ground.

* * *

She was pulled back to consciousness with a stinging slap to the face and as her awareness returned to her she was horrified to discover that her wrists were bound together with rope. Equally disturbing was the fact her armor had been removed, leaving her in just her undergarments.

A deep chuckle brought her attention to the figure in front of her, the tallest of the three hunters she'd accompanied. In one hand he held a rope and when he grinned the Huntress cringed at the sorry state of his teeth.

He really should stick to not smiling.

“Wakey wakey, Sunshine.” he cooed, yanking on the cord.

The woman winced as her wrists were suddenly jerked upwards, following the path of the binding that was slung over a thick tree branch above her.

He continued pulling, giving her no choice but to rise to her feet to avoid having her arms yanked out of joint.

“What did I tell you guys?” Her head whipped to the side as the brothers came into view. “Easy. It went even smoother than expected.”

It was the blue eyed brother who had spoken and he cast her a wicked look when their eyes met.

He came to stand in front of her, much too close for comfort, and ran the back of his hand down the side of her face in a mockery of a comforting gesture. The Huntress tried to shy away from his touch, but he grabbed her jaw in an unyielding hold.

“All you people in this New World are so naive.” He sneered, talking so close to her she could smell his breath, it reeked of alcohol. “You act like you live in a perfect little bubble where everyone is trustworthy and altruistic. You don't even consider threats from other people.”

“Makes things easier for us though.” the brown-eyed brother added with the tall man nodding in agreement.

“Oh yes,” the first man continued. “When I stepped off the boat I thought 'Here is a veritable paradise. Far from the worries and crimes that haunted my past.' since, you see, mine were the kind of crimes that don't typically get forgotten or forgiven.”

Her eyes widened as he pulled out a knife with his free hand and brought it up to her face, tightening his grip on her jaw painfully when she recoiled.

“'Course I couldn't just leave my little brother and buddy. They weren't very popular in the Old World either... You understand.”

He dragged the tip of the blade along her bottom lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood.

“We decided to reform, of course; or at least tried to. It wouldn't do to alienate ourselves in this place as well after finally being free men again, ah, but it was so much easier said than done. Some habits are _so hard_ to break and some of us have _so little_ self control.”

He shot a angry look towards the other men.

“Hey, don't blame me.” The largest of them spit out defensively. “Junior here's the one who lost his fuckin' cool and killed the chick.”

“Not like anyone found out about it anyway.” the younger brother said under his breath, shrugging.

There was a moment of confusion for the captive woman. Someone had been killed?

The only recent death she was aware of was...

The Huntress was suddenly reminded of an unfortunate incident about a month prior. A Fourth Fleet hunter had gone on a solo quest and didn't return. When a search party had been sent out and her body was located, most of her armor was missing.

The corpse had been severely mauled and chewed on and she was found in a wyvern's nest so the prevailing theory was that it'd simply been torn off by wild beasts and scavengers. The one odd detail was that her recovered weapon had shown no sign of use. If she was killed by a monster, it had taken her out before she'd even had a chance to draw her blade.

The reality, the Huntress was repulsed to piece together, was that she'd never drawn her weapon because the threat had not come from a beast and she'd not seen the attack coming. The woman felt her body go cold with the revelation.

_Murderers_.

For the first time in forty years there had been a murder in the New World.

Righteous anger surged through her and without regard for the blade in her face she brought her knee up and jammed it as hard a she could into his groin.

When the male double over in pain she planted one foot into the ground, drew her leg up, and kicked him in the gut with all the strength she had available to her in such a position.

He slammed into the dirt with a satisfying thud, but she had no time to enjoy it as the big man wrenched on the rope securing her wrists.

Her mouth opened in a silent shout as her feet left the ground and all her weight shifted painfully to her arms.

The brown-eyed brother came forward, grabbing her by the throat and squeezing. Her toes struggled for purchase as he slowly tightened his grip, cutting her oxygen off. His fingers dug into her neck and her vision began to darken.

“Let her go.”

Suddenly the pressure was gone and she sucked in as much air as she could. A fit of coughing followed as the older brother approached her again.

“I don't want you dying on us before the fun even begins.” he said tauntingly before he grabbed a fistful of her onyx hair, yanking her head back so she had no choice but to look at him.

She bared her teeth, pushing air through them in a hiss as she glared in his face defiantly.

Unfazed by the display of hostility, he brought the knife up once again, tsk'ing disapprovingly.

“We're going to have to teach you some manners, aren't we? Now where was I?”

* * *

Back in Astera, a snow white Felyne was tending to her fur, when the Handler suddenly barged into the room, startling her from her meditative grooming.

“Hiya! Are you guys- oh. She's not here?” she looked around for the missing huntress.

Recomposing herself, the Fifth Fleet Palico shook her head. “My meowster's out on a quest right meow.”

The Handler looked crestfallen, whatever plans she had made, now worthless. “A quest huh?”

“In the Wildspire Waste if I remember correctly, nya~”

The freckled woman scrunched her brows together in thought. She didn't recall any quests for the Wastes being posted recently. The last being a Barroth hunt that had been completed the day previous.

Then again, new quests _were_ posted all the time.

It was unfortunate though, she frowned. She'd just cooked up a delicious meal and had wanted to share it with her partner. Deciding to make the best of it she grinned at the Palico. “Are you hungry?”

* * *

The arms of the Huntress were past the point of pain, now completely numb as she dangled.

Her top had been sliced from her body, reduced to ribbons, and small cuts decorated her dark skin. It was easy enough to deduce at least two of the blue-eyed hunter's favorite things: torture and talking.

He started off small; a prick here and there, just enough to bring beads of red to the surface of her skin as he detailed how his sick fascination with her began, but she turned a deaf ear to his words and tried to ignore his hands on her. Then he punished her for her transgression by slicing deep X's into her heels.

It took a colossal amount of effort to push her immense discomfort to the back of her awareness, dedicating her mind to figuring out how to escape.

They were still in the Waste, but in the forested region. Piled up in a heap a few meters away was her equipment along with their weapons: a hammer, a longsword, and a switchaxe, leaned neatly against a rock. Being outnumbered three to one would mean nothing if she could just manage to get to a weapon.

Her assailants would be dead before they could blink twice.

A hard pinch to her nipple disrupted her planning as she cried out silently.

“I don't like being disregarded.” he muttered, angrily twisting the tender flesh between his fingers. “It'd be in you best interest to _behave_ and pay attention unless you want more punishment?”

She spit in his face.

The response was instantaneous and her vision went white with the force of his backhand.

It took a moment for her to regain her senses, stinging pain radiating in her cheek. She spit again, this time blood.

The largest of the three men was laughing now, finding her retaliation entertaining apparently.

“She too feisty for you?” he jeered. “Let _me_ teach her a lesson.”

Blue eyes was not amused.

“Shut your damn trap. I already told you, you can have her when I'm finished, now _back off_.”

It made her nauseous, hearing them bicker over her like she was a toy for them to pass around. She wondered what awful things their previous victim had been subjected to before they'd taken the poor woman's life.

Desperately, she scanned her surroundings, looking for_ anything _that could help her right now.

In her searching her sights fell on the younger brother, who'd been relatively silent up to this point and had only looked at her with an expression of contempt. Now he was watching her with a newfound interest and a much more threatening look in his eyes.

Evidently, she wasn't the only one to notice.

“He likes the ones that fight.” The ringleader whispered in her ear, when he saw his brother's focus. “He was so disappointed when he found out you can't scream.”

Abruptly and violently he grabbed her breasts, squeezing and digging his nails into her skin. Her mouth opened, but nothing more than a barely audible whine escaped her throat and he laughed, having proven his point effectively.

“Or maybe it's just not enough,” he mused. “Maybe we need to _really _coax the cries out of you? Brother?”

At his beckoning, the younger blond came forward smoothing back his messy hair with one hand.

“Let's find out.”

* * *

After a succulent meal shared with the Handler, the Fifth Fleet Felyne had gotten into a conversation with the Meowscular Chef, whom she, ehem, _admired_ very much.

After that, she'd picked up some materials for crafting and visited some friends.

It was dark by the time she made it back to her abode, but when she entered it was immediately evident that her master had not returned yet.

It was very uncharacteristic for the woman to hunt late into the night and the Palico wondered what could possibly be delaying her for so long.

She put her procured materials away before settling down to sleep.

Her master could take care of herself regardless, so she needn't worry.

Five minutes passed, then fifteen, thirty... an hour...

She sat up.

It was probably nothing.

She hopped from her bed.

She'd just go check the quest details to put her mind at ease. The Handler could get the information for her.

* * *

Blood ran down the Huntress' skin as she panted, her throat raw.

Her arms, her back, her legs; almost every part of her was covered with lashes, cuts, scratches, and bite marks.

When she was close to passing out they finally released the end of the rope and she crumbled unceremoniously to the ground.

Even in her semi-conscious state, her mind screamed at her to run and she managed to gather her legs and still bound and barely cooperating hands underneath her. She tried to propel herself forward on her bloody feet, but a boot came down on her back pinning her face first into the dirt.

An impressed whistle came from above her.

“You _are_ the real deal.” the blue-eyed devil commended her. “Still so much fight in you. What do you think?”

“I think she looks really good like that.” his brother responded huskily. Most of the bite marks were his.

The third man stood off to the side, dick in hand, grunting, as he watched the brothers torment her.

He'd not been allowed to touch her yet; some unspoken rule between the three degenerates.

With a hard kick she was on her back, the boot now planted firmly on her shoulder to keep her down.

“She does look beautiful doesn't she?”

Removing his foot he knelt down, straddling her hips. He grabbed the slack end of the rope and looped it around her neck before pulling it taut.

Her restrained hands flew up to the ligature and her fingers scratched frantically at the thick rope as she gasped for air.

Leaning down, he stuck his tongue in her mouth, her unmet need for oxygen keeping her from biting down on the invasive muscle. Her legs kicked out ineffectually as she was once again brought to the brink of unconsciousness. He loosened the rope when her kicks began to weaken, but kept it around her neck as a deterrent.

Getting up and using the rope as a leash, he forced the Huntress onto her her knees.

“Let's put that pretty mouth to better use.” He gleefully suggested before turning to his friend, who had remained primarily a spectator so far. “Get over here.”

More than happy to take the rope offered by the blond, the large man yanked on it cruelly, all but dragging her until she was on her knees in front of him.

“Open wide, bitch.” he grinned a yellowed smile and tightened the binding. “I've been waiting for this.”

Fighting the urge to gasp, she clamped her teeth together, grimacing as he pressed his dick against her sealed lips. Growing increasingly impatient her grabbed her hair at the scalp and jerked her head backwards, her mouth opening in a mute shout.

He seized the opportunity and she gagged as he shoved his cock down her throat, choking her and letting out a lecherous moan as he did so.

His grip on her hair didn't loosen, but the rope around her throat did and she seized her own opportunity, biting down as hard as she possibly could on the offensive extremity.

His scream was ear-curdling as he threw her away from him, ripping out some of her hair in the process. She landed hard on her side, spitting out the severed flesh.

She only had seconds.

She rolled herself upright and onto her gouged feet, the adrenaline numbing her injuries.

One brother went to aid the shrieking man while the other grabbed for the end of the rope. She swung her arms up and to the side, the momentum making the rope snake along the ground and out of his reach.

She sprinted towards the weapons, heading for the longsword first.

Using the blade, she managed to cut the binding on her wrists, but before she could pull the rope from around her neck she was tackled from behind, the weight of the larger male bringing her down.

They rolled in the dirt, each struggling for dominance, but the odds were not in her favor. She was naked, bleeding, out muscled, and he overpowered her soon enough.

He rebound her, this time securing her forearms side by side behind her back with her hands at her elbows.

“_I'm liking you more and more._” he breathed heavily in her ear.

He was behind her and she couldn't see him, but she could tell by his voice it was the brown-eyed male.

He pulled her up by her arms and made her stand.

The older brother was approaching. On the ground behind him she could see the third man lying prone and silent, maybe unconscious, maybe dead. She hoped very badly for the latter.

She expected rage and retribution for her mutilation of their friend but when he stood in front of her the blue-eyed man was smiling.

Somehow she found that much more disturbing.

“I have to hand it to you.” He said lightheartedly as he picked up the cordage. “I had a suspicion, but I didn't really think you'd risk your life pulling that little stunt. Glad I had him go first.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

He knew what would happen and he'd used his “friend” as a test subject? These men even sicker than she previously thought.

“It seems silly to gag a mute girl,” he cut a length off the end of the rope and forced it between her teeth, tying it behind her head securely. “But if you did that to me I'd have to kill you and we're not done playing with you yet.”

* * *

They'd looked through the quest logs three times over.

It had been at least a week since a Diablos had been sighted in the Wildspire Waste, let alone two of the black subspecies.

The assignment he Huntress had taken didn't exist.

What the Handler and the Felyne could not figure out was why someone would falsify such a thing.

Did their partner know it was fake? The fivers didn't believe she'd lie to them for no reason, but the question remained: Where was she then? The Palico had a guess.

“Do mew think she's with the Field Team Leader?”

“Why would she be there so late?” the Handler asked obliviously.

The freckled brunette had not yet deduced the relationship between the two hunters apparently and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. “Nyevermind. I'll be back.”

* * *

True to his word, the elder brother raped her first as the other held her down.

She didn't know what was worse; his flagrant misuse of her body or the fact that even as he forced himself on her he still didn't shut the fuck up. She didn't know what he was saying; couldn't distinguish the noise as recognizable words. The blood was pounding in her ears deafeningly.

She wanted to scream and cry, but the Huntress refused to shed a single tear in front of the bastards. She knew they'd enjoy it and she wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

He was being purposefully rough, grinning at her pained expressions as he pounded into her. His hands were around her throat and every few minutes or so he would squeeze just enough that breathing became difficult for her.

She could tell he was reaching his climax when his rhythm became uneven and his hold on her throat constricted. Her body started to convulsed as his hands failed to loosen.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, the Huntress' vision began to blur and darken from the deprivation and she was sure that this time she wouldn't be waking up.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone from her neck and she sucked as much oxygen as she could get through her bruised trachea, immediately racked with more coughing spasms for her efforts. The weight of him also left her and she reflexively curled in on her side to take the burden off her arms.

Through her bleary vision she could see that the younger man had taken hold of his brother and pulled him from her. He was yelling something, but she couldn't hear what it was over her own hacking.

Her fit had barely passed when she felt a hand on her shoulder, pushing her onto her back once more.

This time it was sharp brown eyes that looked down on her. Dark, evil; the eyes of a fiend.

“My brother can be so selfish sometimes.” He caressed her bruised neck in an imitation of caring. “Sometimes he forgets to share.”

When he grabbed her legs she kicked out defensively, but her strength was failing her and it was easy enough for him the wrestle the limbs into submission.

He cruelly dug his fingers into her hips as he positioned himself at her entrance.

He entered her slowly, gouging his nails deeper as he pushed in as far as he could. Once he'd fully sheathed himself he ground into her, stirring her insides.

“How do you like my cock inside of you?” he asked, pressing himself flush against her.

She refused to look at him, clenching her eyes shut as he bent his head to her chest and bit down on the supple flesh.

She bucked at the pain and he laughed at her efforts to fight him off. Grabbing her knee and hooking it over his shoulder he began thrusting into her vigorously, like a rutting animal.

The Huntress felt like she couldn't breathe and despite her best efforts, stinging tears escaped the seal of her eyelids, cutting a path through the blood and dust that painted her cheeks.

His hands were all over her body; fondling, scratching, pinching like he was trying to claim every inch of her as his property.

He suddenly pulled out of her before flipping her onto her stomach and entering her again from behind.

The brute grabbed her restrained arms like their were reins, pulling her backwards towards him as he pitched forward and slapped her ass, spanking her so hard that a welt in the shape of his hand rose up.

He snickered at how she flinched when he did it then repeated the action again and again as he rode her.

When his finished, he released his hold on her arms.

Unable to support herself, she fell on her face into the dirt and judging by the crunching noise she heard and the new pain that blossomed through her face, her nose was broken by the impact.

She curled into the fetal position. Beaten and humiliated; every part of her hurt.

She'd been tossed around by monsters before, but this...

The Huntress didn't know how much longer this would last, or how much longer _she_ could.

* * *

The Field Team Leader was sleeping soundly when a loud knock at his door stirred him.

Half asleep and very much like a zombie, he made his way towards the increasingly insistent thumping.

Throwing the door open he was met with... nothing.

He furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Down here, nya!”

His eyes dropped.

The Huntress' Palico.

What was she doing here at this hour? What even was this hour?

“I'm looking for my meowster.” she explained before he could even ask. “Is she here?”

He shook his head.

“She's not here.” he said yawning.”Sorry.”

The Felyne's ears drooped, her worried expression drawing his interest.

“She's missing?”

She explained to him about the quest she'd supposedly taken and her concern with how uncharacteristically long she'd been gone for and the Field Team Leader agreed that a search was warranted.

The Handler wanted to join them, but he didn't need her inadvertently stumbling into trouble as she was so prone to do, so they left her in Astera.

The Palico was not so easily benched, citing her ability to communicate with small monsters as an indispensable skill in tracking her master.

By the time they departed, the sky was purple tinged pink with the coming dawn of a new day.

* * *

There'd been no rest for the Huntress.

The longest reprieve she had had was when they relocated to a cave that apparently served as the brother's dwelling, explaining why she didn't recognize them from around Astera.

Situated behind massive anthills, it was a cavity in a rock wall naturally protected from the elements on all sides but one, which was blocked with heavy leather shrouds the same color of the stone, a decent camouflage. The space inside was littered with evidence of their habituation and she wondered how long they'd been here.

Bones and dirty dishes from past meals, bottles and jugs of reeking liquor, monster parts, hay, and filthy furs decorated the area. An appropriate abode for animals that didn't belong with civilized people.

She was chucked onto a pile of blankets and furs that stunk like mildew and sweat.

The older brother had stayed back to deal with their compatriot.

With the elder gone, the younger brother wasted no time in resuming his abuse of her.

He cut the ropes off her arms and she went on the offensive, punching and clawing at him.

She had might as well be a child with how easily he trapped her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand.

He smirked maliciously at her exhausted countenance,

“No _please_, keep struggling.” he urged her. “I've never had this much fun before! You look so sexy when you look at me so scared like that.”

He raped her again.

The sickening sound of his grunts and moans and the slapping of skin on skin filled the rocky hollow.

“It really- _uh-_ is such a shame- _ha-_ that you can't scream for me- _fuck-_” he lamented, bucking his hips against her as hard as he could as if he could make her with enough force.

He kissed her over the rope gag in her mouth, licking along her lips and up the side of her face making her want to puke. He licked down the column of her throat, biting the tender skin as he went then licking the blood that beaded from the wound.

This went on for what seemed like forever. It was a welcome relief and a blessing, when she finally blacked out.

* * *

The Field Team Leader was glad he'd brought the Felyne Fiver along.

The Kestodon they were riding was able to pick up the Huntress' track easy enough and now followed his scoutflies as they guided them through the rocky region.

Eventually it reached a spot at the perimeter of the forest where the small insects promptly went crazy, spreading out and flashing erratically.

Dismounting the herbivore, he examined the area.

What he found alarmed him.

The more he looked, the more heightened the feeling became.

It was obvious a skirmish had taken place. The grass was flattened in multiple directions and kicked up in divots in some places. There was blood splatter on the green stalks and nearby trees, but that was nothing compared to the large dark red stain where a large puddle had seeped into the earth.

A panicked exclamation from the Felyne directed his attention back to her as she ran towards him clutching something in her paw.

She gave it to him and he knew what it was instantly, dread filling him.

He recognized the torn up remains of the shirt, also stained with blood.

“These tears were not caused by claws.” he clenched the fabric in his fist and jumped back on the mount, driving it from the area so it could pick up a new trail, barely waiting for his companion to grab onto the beast's tail as it took off.

He needed to find her and he needed to find her soon.

The image of the puddle of blood flashed through his head.

He hoped desperately that he'd find her alive.

* * *

How long had it been? The Huntress had no concept of how much time had passed since this nightmare had begun.

The small amount of rest she got from losing consciousness was interrupted when the blue-eyed brother had returned.

They began drinking from the ceramic jugs scattered around the den and then, taking turns, they ravaged her over and over until she had not an ounce of fight left in her, merely waiting for it to end and for them to be through with her.

Once they were finally satiated they bound her ankles and wrists and left her naked on the stone floor while they passed out on their makeshift beds of fur scraps and ratty blankets.

She felt raw.

Her eyes, her throat, her skin, her insides.

Long since run out of tears, she laid completely still on the hard stone, save for the shivers that would intermittently rack her body.

With her assailants asleep, she knew this may be her last chance to escape, but her body did not respond to her demands for it to move.

_It's unfair _she thought numbly.

To dedicate her life to hunting monsters only to be killed by these scum. They _would_ kill her, she was certain; just like they killed the Fourth Fleet woman, just like they killed who knows how many others? How many women would be lured to their torment and death after her?

Again, she willed her appendages into motion. Slowly, painfully she twisted her hands behind her, but the knot held and she clenched her eyes shut in frustration.

How could this be how she'd meet her end? In some stinking cave where no one would know what happened to her.

Her thoughts shifted to her friends, her colleagues, the Field Team Leader...

She had never known someone could make her feel like that man made her feel.

She pictured him; laughing, smiling that boyish smile of his as he looked at her with those eyes like the sky before a storm. It brought an iota of comfort to the suffering woman, to think of him. At least he'd been a part of her life.

Her eyelids grew heavy as her fatigue overcame her and she fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

The scoutflies had stopped in front of a massive wall of anthills and would go no further circling the stacks in an impasse.

Frustrated, the Field Team Leader kicked the dirt structure causing a portion of it to cave in. How'd they reach a dead end? He lashed out a few more times with his boot, crumbling more of the insect's architecture.

“Hey look!” his furry companion pointed.

As the dust settled, they looked closer and realized there was a narrow path that cut through the anthills. His scoutflies became active once more lighting the way along the winding trail.

“What the hell?”

What was this?

At the end of the pathway, reddened leather covered a large portion of the rock face. A quick examination revealed that it was concealing a cave entrance.

“Stay here.” he directed the Felyne.

The cave was obviously being used by _someone_, so he proceeded cautiously, slowly moving the covering to the side with his weapon and quietly entering.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting so the first thing he noticed was the unpleasant smell of sweat and must and booze. Noises registered next.

Slow heavy breathing and snoring. There were occupants, but they were asleep.

As he got used to the dim lighting the Field Team Lead quickly scanned his surroundings, careful to not make any noise to wake the occupants.

One shape in particular caught his eye, being fairly isolated. He made his way over to the shadowy form and as he came closer and realized what he was looking at, the grip he had on his sword tightened to the point that the handle creaked in protest from the strain.

The Huntress was curled up on the stone floor: naked, battered, bound, bloody, and trembling in her fitful slumber, but thankfully alive.

He fell to his knees at her side and cut the bindings from her legs and wrists.

As he tried to untied the rope gag tangled in her hair, the jostling brought her back to awareness and she immediately started thrashing in his arms, slapping and kicking at her presumed attacker, her eyes wide in blind panic; her mouth wide in mute screams.

“_Shh shh shh..._” he dodged her hands, trying to subdue her without aggravating the multitude of injuries that covered her body or make too much noise. “_It's alright. It's me. Shh, it's me, its just me._”

Her flailing died down as alarm was replaced with recognition, but a moment later that too was replaced; with fear.

“Get the fuck away from her or I'll blow your _fucking _head off.”

The Field Team Leader stilled.

_Stupid. So stupid!_

In his rush to help her he neglected to deal with the threats first.

“If you shoot, you might hit her.” The hunter warned, not breaking eye contact with the Huntress. He was assuming that if he wanted him away from her he put some value into her remaining alive. He'd never before seen the kind of terror in the mismatched eyes of the smaller hunter that he did now.

Her trembling had returned twofold and she tried to pull away from him, but he was still clasping her forearms and wouldn't let go.

He needed her to trust him, but she was acting like a cornered animal.

“It'd be a shame.” the voice behind him admitted. “Definitely one of the best fucks of my life, but I'll do it if I have to. So why don't yo-”

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

Like a strike of lightning, the professional hunter had swung around, simultaneously slashing upward with his jawblade and slicing the man from groin to sternum.

The body tumbled lifelessly to the ground, the Huntress' bowgun falling from his hands and clacking onto the stone in the ever widening pool of blood.

Almost too late, he noticed the second man, the blade of a longsword just missing him as he dodged to the side, holding the Huntress to his chest protectively with one arm and bringing his weapon up to block with the other.

The blond man was screaming obscenities as he brought his sword down on the broadside of the bone sword repeatedly.

His unrelenting attacks left no opening for the Field Team Leader to switch to the offensive as the male promised bloody retribution for his slain kin.

His cursing was suddenly silenced when an arrow impaled him through the throat. He staggered as blood bubbled from his lips before crumpling to the ground, gurgling and writhing before finally laying still.

At the entrance, the Palico lowered her bow before rushing over to the two of them.

In his arms, the Huntress was still shaking violently and he pulled a mantle from his supply bag, wrapping it around her and pulling her close.

He was eager to leave that disgusting place and he'd need to report to his grandfather. He didn't recognize either of the men and he wondered how long the predators had been among them. First priority, however, was the Huntress.

He didn't want to bring her back like this; didn't want people to see their Sapphire Star, their symbol of hope, broken down in such a way.

So, gently loading her onto the still waiting Ketsodon, he took her to the covert pool in the Ancient Forest where she used to bathe once upon a time.

The female was virtually catatonic as he handled her, lifting her from the beast's back and setting her down carefully at the edge of the water on a flat stone.

“Find the Commander, tell him to meet me at the nearest camp.” he directed. “And bring clothing for her.”

Once the Felyne had departed he returned to the Huntress.

She hadn't moved an inch, staring at the surface of the water blankly.

Kneeling at her side, the Field Team Leader took a moment to steel himself for what he'd see before reaching to remove the mantle from her shoulders.

His light tug to the fabric at her shoulders brought her from her state of dormancy and she reflexively recoiled from the touch, falling from the stone into the cool water with the sudden frantic motion.

Turned away from him and hunched over in the shallow water he could see her shoulders shaking under the soaking wet fabric that she clung to with a white knuckle grip.

His heart constricted with sadness at the sight and he slowly approached her again, kneeling down but not touching her.

She didn't respond to his presence, but when he whispered her name she turned her face to him, half shrouded by the drenched mantle and her unkempt obsidian hair.

“You're safe now.” he tried to reassure her. “It's just me. Please, let me see.”

There was hesitation; she shook her head.

She didn't want him to look at what had been done to her. She felt dirty, but he was persistent and eventually she released her vice grip on the cloth and allowed him to delicately push it from her shoulders.

His widened and he felt a seething rage boil up in his chest.

The water washed away much of the dirt and dust that caked her skin and the extent of her torture was revealed.

Her brown skin was dappled black and blue and covered in more lacerations than he could count, crisscrossing her flesh. Bite marks covered her breasts, thighs, and neck, and the skin at her wrists had been rubbed completely raw. Her nose was broken and they had slashed the bottoms of her feet; most likely to keep her from being able to run properly.

There wasn't a patch of her that wasn't marred and the hunter found himself regretting that they'd died so quickly.

Taking a small piece of cloth, he dipped it in the water before tenderly wiping her brow clean.

The action seemed to put the Huntress at ease and she slowly began to relax with each stroke of the cloth. She closed her eyes as he continued his task and, being especially careful of her nose, he methodically cleared the blood and grime from her face then he went down her neck, over her shoulders, her arms, and chest.

As her lover handled her so softly, the tension she'd been holding in her body for so long finally started to drain away and she fell against his warm chest.

Tears she thought dried up, streamed down her face ceaselessly as her hands bunched up in the fabric of his coat. It was relief that shook her this time.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a secure embrace, holding her like that until her tremors calmed. After awhile her breathing evened out and he could tell she'd slipped into repose.

Her Palico returned, providing new clothes and the message that the Commander, Admiral, and Handler were waiting at camp for them.


	2. Recovery

The Huntress sat on the floor next to her large fireplace. Despite the proximity of the flames, she felt cold.

Her eyelids were heavy, but she refused to let them close.

It had been weeks since her assault, but she'd been having nightmares every night.

She knew the threat was gone. Her assailants were dead. Restrictions had been set for any boats entering or leaving the New World. She was safe.

But any time her eyes shut and her mind drifted to sleep she'd hear them, snickering, stalking in the shadows. _Staring_ at her with those burning cold eyes, full of cruelty.

She'd sense the presences close in on her as she lay in bed; their hands hovering over her body like hungry phantoms, ready and waiting to rip her apart. Her body wouldn't move, paralyzed by some insurmountable force.

Then she'd be suffocating, struggling, fighting the limbs that bound her and denied her air.

In the days immediately following the attack, when she was still in medical care, a Felyne medic would come in and calm her with sedatives.

After returning to her own room she thought the security of the familiar surroundings would help, but the very first night she awoke in a cold sweat having fallen to the floor, tangled in the blankets that moments ago were arms choking the life from her.

Her Palico tried to provide a comforting presence, but only ended up getting thrown from the bed during the Huntress' nightly fits. The Field Team Leader tried to visit her as well, but she denied entry to everyone save her Felyne partner.

She'd bathed every day, multiple times, but she couldn't get the feeling of filth to rinse from her skin. All but her most severe bruises had faded, though thin lines still crisscrossed her dark skin, some of the deeper ones still healing into scars that would never go away; perpetual reminders of her traumatic ordeal.

Lack of decent sleep and appetite had made her gaunt and listless. Any food she was brought was pushed around, nibbled at, and eventually discarded.

How did she let this happen?

She thought she was strong, was told she was strong, but they made her so _weak_.

Pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, she curled into herself. She felt queasy and exhausted; despite her lack of movement, she felt dizzy.

This had been her standard for the last few days.

A firm knock at her door drew her attention to the threshold, but she made no move to answer it.

She wasn't concerned with anyone entering, having bolted it shut in her furry partner's absence.

It wasn't her Palico or the Handler, their knocks would be much softer.

It could be the Commander or the Admiral, but her gut told her it was her caring Field Team Leader insistently rapping on the thick wood.

When he called out to her through the barrier, confirming her suspicion, she knew she should open the door to him, but she was frozen in place.

More than anyone, she didn't want him to see her like this, a pathetic shell of her former self. Shame stuck her to her spot.

Eventually the knocking stopped and she thought he'd given up.

A minute or so went by and her mind had begun to drift again when a loud crack startled her. A bang and a thunk followed, before the door suddenly swung open before her shocked eyes.

He'd busted the lock!

“Sorry about your door-” he began before catching sight of her huddled by the mantle. “Oh.”

* * *

He hadn't come with the intention of breaking her door, but her Palico's reports to him had been concerning to say the least.

After what she'd been through, he did his best to respect her request for solitude and in truth found himself wracked with guilt over what had happened to her. He was the Field Team Leader and the hunters were his responsibility.

It was an outright failure of his duties to allow something like this to occur. The fact that it happened to the woman he loved just made it sting worse.

At his request, the furry fiver relayed to him daily reports on the woman and told him everything, including the nocturnal terrors the Huntress' fought on a nightly basis and her minimal eating habits.

It killed him that she was suffering, but she'd refused him entry any time he tried to check on her, finding her wooden door regularly bolted. Not even the Admiral could get her to open it.

When he found her door locked once again he couldn't bring himself to turn away anymore. He needed to see her.

It'd been over a week since he'd last laid eyes on the woman and she looked like a completely different person than the bold Huntress he was accustom to.

She'd lost at least a third of her body weight and her normally shining midnight hair was dull and unkempt. Her heterochromatic eyes were looking at him in shock and disbelief, wide but puffy as though she'd been crying.

Any words he had died on his tongue, her condition was even worse than he'd expected and he felt the guilt rise up in him.

He approached her and saw that even with the overbearing heat from the large fireplace she was shivering; or was it his entrance that shook her?

The Field Team Leader could see her getting more anxious the closer her got, but he couldn't leave her alone again. He kicked himself for waiting as long as he had.

He knelt in front of her.

The crackling and pops of the dancing flames were the only noises as they stared at each other, her eyes fixed to his face with an expression of uncertainty.

He reached a hand out to caress her cheek, his heart tightening when she flinched slightly, though she allowed him to brush some hair from her face.

Most of her injuries had healed, but he knew her deepest scars were psychological. The image of her naked form, cold and bleeding on the stone would forever be burned into his memory.

“_I'm sorry_.” he finally spoke; the soft words, heavy with emotion, brought a look of surprise to the Huntress' features. Without warning he pulled her into a tight embrace, speaking into her onyx tresses as he held her to him.

“I'm sorry I didn't protect you. Please... forgive me.”

She pulled away enough that she could look at him, her confused countenance staring up at him with ebon and amber.

Is this what had been occupying the Field Team Leader's mind? Did he think she blamed him for what happened to her and that's why she refused to see him?

Her brow scrunched together and she shook her head adamantly, her head spinning from the fervor of the motion.

There was nothing to forgive!

If they hadn't looked for her; if he hadn't entered that cave and found her when he did she wouldn't be alive right now.

The Huntress' eyes began to mist as she suddenly realized how much she had missed his presence.

She'd cultivated so many fears over the last several days. The fear that she'd no longer be attractive in his eyes, the fear that he'd see her as weak and pathetic, the fear that she'd be unable to feel his touch again without reliving the barbarous acts she'd been subjected to.

How could she have been so damn foolish to ever think such things?

His hands were cool water on her burns, his voice was a warm blanket that chased the persistent cold from her bones.

Her body unraveled in his arms and she buried her face into his chest, silently sobbing as all her misgivings were laid to rest.

The large hunter let her cry, holding her until she calmed, before he picked up her diminished frame, bridal style.

How light she'd become was off putting. She needed to eat.

He set her in her large bed, sitting her up and and asking her to wait while he fetched food, but when he turned to leave her hand shot out to grab hold of his wrist, stopping him.

“I'll be right back.” he assured her, but her grip did not loosen.

He covered her hand with his own. “You need to eat.”

The look she gave him was desperate and her grip tightened. He'd never hear her voice, but her message was practically audible.

**Please don't leave me**

Sighing, the Field Team Leader relented, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. She visibly relaxed, allowing her hand to fall from his wrist to intertwine her fingers with his instead.

The Huntress let out a small sigh of her own and leaned back into her pillows.

She didn't want food. Her nausea had yet to abate. More than anything she wanted to shut her eyes without worry of what her dreams would bring.

She gave him an imploring look and shifted on the mattress, making a space large enough for him to lay beside her.

Understanding the unspoken request, he slipped off his shoes and out of his armor and settled next to her, cradling her with his muscular arm when she curled into his side.

For the first time in days the dark skinned woman allowed herself to drift into slumber.

It wasn't long before the nightmares began.

Shadowy hands crawled up her body, fingers with nails like razors trailing across her skin, over her breasts, around her neck, tightening, _choking her_.

Her breathing hitched and her limbs flailed out in panic, but were contained by a compassionate hold.

“_Don't worry. I'm here.”_

The Field Team Leader's voice easily soothed her subconscious. Her fit ceased and her breathing evened out once more, the terrors withdrew and didn't return.

Upon awakening, the Huntress was presented with a large plate of eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, and toast and ordered to eat as much as she could.

The first bite whet her appetite and she plowed through half the plate before her stomach suddenly turned and she had to sprint to the bathroom where she proceeded to retch up the majority of it.

Starting with a large, rich meal probably hadn't been the best idea, the Field Team Leader accepted, leaving and returning with soup instead.

* * *

Under his care, the Huntress slowly began truly recovering. With sleep returned to her, appetite followed and she began regaining her weight back, though she found it difficult to keep the food down sometimes.

The bags under her eyes started to fade and the healthy sheen returned to her hair.

She'd not been inclined to return to the public eye yet, but he could see her old self beginning resurface much to his relief.

While he still had his work to attend to, he'd return to her room each night to find her awake and waiting for him regardless of the hour. She would not sleep without his attendance, though it was a habit he was happy to oblige.

They'd been lovers for awhile now, she'd agreed to stay in the New World with him after Xeno'Jiiva had been slain, but this was the first time their relationship had a feeling of domesticity to it and he found he liked it a lot, though he wished the circumstance had been different.

His grandfather, his master, the Admiral, and everyone was relieved to hear of her improvement. Her partner, the Handler and the excitable A-Lister were especially keen for her to return to the field, constantly asking him when she would be doing so.

He promised them he would bring it up that night and he mused on what her response might be as he walked the wooden pathway to her home. He knew it'd be good for her to see her friends again, but didn't know if she was ready for that yet.

Then again, maybe the boisterous energy of the redhead and brunette would be just what she needed?

“I'm back.” he announced upon opening her door.

When he didn't see her immediately, he raised a brow and was about to call her name before he caught sight of her on the ground, half slumped over her stone bench in the garden.

The Field Team Leader was slow to process what he was seeing. Was she sleeping? She wasn't moving. Was she hurt? What happened?

He rushed across the room, and as he came closer he saw that she was actually awake. Panting hard and covered in sweat, her face was twisted in pain as she sat in a pool of blood from a wound he could not see in the darkness. The entire bottom half of her nightgown was soaked crimson red.

“What happened?! Who did this?!” Had someone snuck in and stabbed her? Shot her? Who? How?

He tried to assess the damage but there was too much blood, more than anything he needed to get her to a doctor quickly! Scooping her up as gently as he could he rushed her to the infirmary, grateful for the lack of people due to the late hour.

The head medical practitioner on duty was an old Lynian woman who directed him to put her on an examination table before promptly dismissing him, ignoring his protests as she all but pushed him from the room.

He sat on a nearby bench to wait, mind racing.

The Lynian doctor returned much faster than he anticipated and he jumped back to his feet when she appeared. “Is she going to be okay? What happened to her?”

When he found out who did this, he'd hunt them down and kill them with his bare hands.

The medic held a four fingered hand up to halt him before he could ask more questions.

“She'll be okay.” the woman began to his utter relief, though the following words pierced his mind like an arrow.

“She's had a miscarriage.”


	3. Concern

“She... what?”

The Lynian medic nodded soberly.

“I've given her something for the pain and cramping. It was an early stage miscarriage so she should make a full physical recovery but I'm worried about her emotional state..”

She paused a moment, as though deciding on whether to continue or not. “I was the one to treat her when you brought her back. The men who ra-”

“That's enough.” The Field Team Leader didn't need it spelled out to him. “Is she conscious right now?”

The elder woman nodded and directed him back to the room the Huntress had been moved to.

Awake indeed, the woman was propped up in a cot and staring at her hands which she wrung together in her lap. When the large hunter entered the room, her attention shot to him.

Her lips parted, mouthing his name.

“Please give us a moment.”

“Of course.”

The wooden door clicked shut with the doctor's withdrawal and the two were left in silence.

He wanted to ask if she was okay, but it seemed like such an asinine question under the circumstances.

Instead, he simply sat at the side of her bed and took her fidgeting hands in his own.

The Huntress was grateful for the contact, weaving her fingers into his and clenching his hand like her heart clenched in her chest.

She didn't know what to feel.

Grief? She'd just been informed she'd lost a child she didn't even know she'd been carrying.

Relief? It had been conceived against her will after all.

The only feeling she could settle on was tired; a full exhaustion of both mind and body.

She signed to the Field Team Leader her desire to go home.

He seemed unsure as to whether it was a good idea for her to leave the care of the medic, but the Huntress' look brooked no argument so he went to speak to the Lynian in the other room.

“As long as she rests and follows a few restrictions, she should be alright to go.” The woman responded to his query. “Has she been under your care these past few weeks? I know you two are... close.”

He nodded.

The Field Team Leader and the Huntress never announced to anyone the details of their relationship, but most everyone in Astera had drawn their conclusions.

“Then I expect you to ensure she's compliant with her limitations.”

“Of course.”

She listed of the typical restrictions. Light activity, lots of rest, etc.

When she got to the end of her list she looked up at him sternly. “Have you two had intercourse since her assault?”

The suddenness of the question and the Lynian woman's tone made him do a double take, unsure if he'd heard correctly.

“Excuse me?”

“I don't mean to invade your privacy, but in her current condition-”

“No.” He cut her off. “We haven't.”

The Lynian woman nodded at his response. “Keep it that way for at least a week while she heals.”

Wanting to end the uncomfortable conversation, the Field Team Leader asked the doctor to keep the Huntress' miscarriage confidential before her took his leave to escort the Huntress home.

He noticed the dark woman seemed oddly calm considering what she'd just gone through and he asked her if she felt alright.

Bringing her hand up to her chest, the Huntress made a motion of clenching her fist over her heart before releasing it with an outward motion and releasing a small sigh.

She put her hands over her stomach and shook her head.

Without her blackstone and chalk her responses and signs were open to interpretation, but he believed he understood her gestures accurately and when she turned to him with an unspoken question in her eyes, an unvoiced concern, he answered what he believed she was asking him.

“How you're feeling...” he searched for the right words. “_Whatever_ you're feeling. It's alright. There's nothing wrong with it.”

It was apparently the answer she needed. For the first time in what seemed like forever, the Huntress allowed the corners of her lips to turn up in a small appreciative smile.

The large hunter's heart skipped. Gods, he missed her smile.

When they reached her room, they were greeted by her frantic Palico, who'd arrived home to see bloodstains in the garden and the Huntress gone. She was understandably alarmed, to say the least.

Seeing her partner safe put the pale Felyne at ease and the Field Team Leader explained what had happened.

Over the course of the next few days, the Huntress began to do considerably better. Her nausea had vanished and she was able to keep her food down again without problem.

As he kept an eye on her, the Field Team Leader kept thinking of what the old Lynian had said to him.

He was not so stupid or selfish as to risk the Huntress' well being just to satisfy his own sexual needs, but he'd be lying to himself if he said it wasn't torture, holding her next to him every night and not being able to act on his urges.

The presence of her Palico, sleeping in a small bed across the room helped act as an inhibitor, but she wasn't there every night and on the nights of her absence he couldn't help but think of how they would have spent the time before she'd been attacked.

It was one such night, when the white furred fiver was gone and though it was late, the room was luminous with the light of the full moon that streamed in through the garden.

While he lay on his side awake, the Huntress was asleep, her lips parted slightly with her soft breathing and hair splayed out like spilled ink over the white pillow.

He watched the even rise and fall of her chest, his hands itching to touch the soft mounds hidden by a thin layer of cloth and nothing more. It'd be so easily to reveal them with a simple tug at her neckline. Her stomach was already on display from her night shirt riding up and the blanket getting bunched up around her legs in the heat of the night. If he just pushed it up a little farther...

His fingers flexed, but he made no move to act on his desires, despite the growing tent in his boxers. He didn't know how she'd react to intimate contact right now, but couldn't help but appreciate the body beside him.

His gaze trailed down the plane of her stomach and stopped at her belly button. A thin line of puckered flesh ran alongside the feature in a crescent shape before transitioning into a crude heart shaped scar.

He couldn't help but run the pad of his fingers over the raised skin as his jaw clenched.

How many scars did they leave her with?

The answer seemed to be: As many as they could.

But for the hand of fate, she'd almost been left with something else as well. He thought it disgustingly coincidental that the heart was carved over her abdomen by her rapists.

_What kind of sick fucks..?_

The Field Team Leader was pulled from his internal fuming when he heard a shift in the woman's breathing indicating she'd been awakened. She looked at him confused for a moment, then at his hand which still was still resting on her stomach at the scar site.

Her eyes widened in distress at his attention to the marks she despised so much.

That one in particular, she hated the most.

_ A gift to show my affection _ the blue eyed demon had laughed as he'd dug his blade into her while his brother restrained her struggling.

Quickly yanking her shirt back down, she tried to jump from the bed, but the muscular hunter grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him, embracing her firmly with her back to his chest.

“It's alright.” he tried to soothe her, his voice muffled in her hair.

She twisted in his grasp.

It wasn't alright!

She couldn't stand it.

Having permanent reminders on her skin that she'd been used as a fuck toy.

**How?**

She mouthed the words even though he couldn't see them.

**How can it be alright?**

And then she asked the question she'd been burying deep down.

**How could you still want me now?**

She wasn't facing him and he couldn't hear her, but it still made her heart pound painfully, finally putting into words, even silently, the worry she'd been too afraid to express until now.

How could he stand to look at her skin covered in the marks of other men.

She tried to pull away, but his arms were like steel as he held her against him.

As she inadvertently pushed her ass against him she felt a familiar bulge pressing into her and she immediately froze. If she needed further proof that he still desired her, there it was.

Missing the friction, the Field Team Leader thrust his hips forward grinding his erection into her and her mind went blank.

He began to fondle her breasts in his large hands and he groaned at the feeling of the soft flesh in his palms.

Overwhelmed by his caresses, the small hunter shuddered in his arms and he suddenly stopped, realizing he was about to do exactly what he told himself he wouldn't.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

“Sorry..” he whispered huskily.

He released his hold on the Huntress, but was surprised when she didn't move from her spot.

Instead, she turned her head back to look at him with a pleading expression that sent his blood rushing south once more.

He'd never seen her look at him with such desperate lust, such an utterly arousing countenance.

Not only did she not want him to stop. She _needed_ him to keep going. Needed him to love her like nothing had changed.

He could do that; would be more than happy to, but he'd have to be careful.

He reminded himself her body was still healing as he pulled her back to his chest and pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue delving past her lips.

Her taste was sweet and familiar to the muscular male.

One rough hand remained on her breast, while the other descended to her covered womanhood.

He tentatively rubbed a finger over the thin cotton and found it was already soaked with her excitement. He pressed down over her clit and she clenched her teeth as her body shivered in reaction.

Continuing to massage over her sensitive nub, the Field Team Leader pulled himself from his boxers and slid his cock over her core.

He couldn't penetrate her, but this would work.

He began to drive his hips between her closed thighs, the slick juices from her arousal lubricating him as he moved.

He sucked and licked at her neck, leaving his own temporary marks on the woman as she panted and gasped from his thrusts.

With him behind her, she couldn't hold on to him like she wanted so she tangled her fists in the blankets as her body tensed up with her imminent orgasm.

He didn't stop when she convulsed in pleasure, wrapping both his arms tight around her and increasing his pace as he felt his own release swiftly approach.

When it was over and she thought the Field Team Leader asleep, the Huntress quietly rose from the bed and crossed the room to a body length mirror that stood against a wall.

Even in the limited light, the scarring on her body was obvious. It was hard for her to believe it didn't bother her lover.

It certainly bothered her greatly, but had his affection not shown her that he still found her attractive? Her fingers hovered over the scar on her abdomen and she grimaced. _Disgusting_.

“If you'd like, I can prove it to you again? However many times you need.”

She jumped at the unexpected sound of his voice and turned to see him sitting up in the bed staring at her intensely. With just a thin sheet covering him, his prominent hard on was easily noticeable and she felt the heat pool once again between her legs.

He held a hand out to her.

“Come here.”


End file.
